Altering the Deal

[Darth Osano]

SOMEWHERE SHADY
A SPICE DEN OF ILL-REPUTE

After knocking three times, a panel slid open and the bouncer peeked out, only his bloodshot eyes visible. It was some sort of humanoid and doubtlessly cooked out of his mind despite the responsibility of his position. This was how you could tell a spice den of ill repute from a spice den of good repute: how seriously the doorman kept his vigil. He narrowed his eyes at the Givin standing outside. Not only was he spooky lookin', but he was dressed too well to be showing up here. Skepticism was natural, even in his current state.

"Who the hell are you? What'd you want?"

"We're here to see Narbo."

The guards eyes shifted away from Givin and to the three Helix Syndicate Enforcers standing beside him. One of them had one of those fancy Czerka shotguns. The kind you could load with explosive shells. Good for busting open both people and doors. He swallowed hard. "What's... The password?"

Pollux seemed to be staring directly through both the door and the bouncer, placidly assessing something a great and immeasurable distance beyond. It didn't make anyone comfortable. It wasn't supposed to. "Open the door."

There was a nice, pregnant pause. Then the panel shut and Pollux was treated to the sound of the door's various locks being undone. The heavy door swung open and Pollux stepped inside, leaving the Enforcers where they were. Already he had produced a credit chip containing approximately six standard galactic credits and handed it off to the bouncer who was, as Pollux could now properly see, an Iridonian.

"Bring him out here."

The Iridonian pursed his lips at the sight of the credit chip, slid it into his breast pocket, and shuffled off to the back room where [member="Narbo"] was no doubt enjoying himself.

 

[Azimuth Industries]

A strong, musky scent wafted from the back room to tangle up in the cloud of cigarra smoke hanging heavy throughout the establishment. Giggling female voices rose above gruff laughter.

"Inkabunga! Just like that, chikas."

"Hey, Narbo."

"No chuba da wanga, da wanga. Aaaaah."

"Narbo."

"Huh? Hi chuba da naga, Ir-i-dohniahn?"

"Someone's outside for you."

"Come back to bed, Narbo," crooned a female voice.

"Mo. Get off. Who is outside?"

"Some Givin."

"Huh? Narbo doesn't know any Givins."

"Yeah but it's like I said, guy's outside."

A whuffling yawn and an audible stretch. "Fine, fine. I'm coming."

A strangely monotone, synthetic voice said something in Trandoshan.

"No, Sim. You stay here. And you cheekas, ho ho, you take care. Daddy Narbo will be right back."

More giggling.

A four-eyed Aqualish emerged in the doorway. Tufts of flyaway hair stood up across his body. Barely an arm through shrugging on an orange spacer vest, he paused when he noticed [member="Pollux"], or rather Pollux's three GwGs. Goons with Guns. He finished sliding his other arm through the vest and whuffled a big, dirty Aqualish equivalent of a grin at the Givin.

"Achuta. What can Narbo do for you, Mr...."

 

[Darth Osano]

"Pollux." Said the Givin, although he did not extend his hand. This spice den was in a sorry state and [member="Narbo"] had to re-dress himself upon walking out of the back room. Pollux could only speculate as to where his hands had been. He didn't want to risk contaminating himself with... Aqualish germs. "You owed thirty-thousand credits to Birsha the Hutt."

He retrieved a datapad from the folds of his coat. A cheap one. Largely because he knew that once he handed it to Narbo, he wasn't going to want it back. Not until the Aqualish and the datapad had been sterilized by sufficiently qualified HAZMAT personnel. Aqualish already tended to be on the dirtier side of things, but drug peddling Aqualish that clung to the walls of establishments like these might as well have been toxic. Pollux didn't want to touch any of them unless absolutely necessary. It was just an unfortunate coincidence that the only drug dealer in debt to the Hutts and was cheap enough to be considered a steal was an Aqualish. Maybe Narbo would defy expectations.

Maybe he had already met them.

"Your debt has been purchased by the Helix Syndicate. You will begin working for me."

 

[Azimuth Industries]

Narbo stared for a moment, then let out a gut busting burst of laughter.

"Grancha na yoka. Very funny, but I know you come for Narbo's brain booster. Made from only the finest starship paint. Guaranteed to take you to the stars."

He grabbed the datapad with a three fingered hand and gave it about as much attention as a Gamorrean prostitute before waving a hand to beckon [member="Pollux"] and his target faced friends inside.

"Come, I show you my product. Bedwana? Low low price for special guest like you."

The Aqualish turned around and walked back into the smog of cigarra smoke, spice haze, and other more coital scents. The Iridonian was, by this point, standing in the far corner pretending he didn't exist. The few other denizens lay spread out on divans, too far gone to notice.

 

[Darth Osano]

Pollux was beginning to suspect that this sort of behavior, and the fact that [member="Narbo"]'s product was essentially paint, was why he had been able to purchase his thirty-thousand credit debt for two thousand credits. It was going to take a lot of investment to straighten this place out. Or if that failed, Pollux could just squeeze the thirty-thousand credits out of Narbo himself. Birsha had been pessimistic of his ability to get that much out of Narbo, but Birsha didn't have debtor mines he could send Narbo to. Big, strong Aqualish like him was going to generate a lot of revenue.

"I don't partake." Pollux said, stiff as a board, and failing to move from where he stood. "And I advise you inspect that datapad more closely."

He didn't like it when people walked away from him. Who did? The Enforcers now entered and, when Syndicate Enforcers entered a building they didn't already own, it rarely lead to a good time. Not that anyone else in this blasted hellhole had enough sobriety to understand as much.

 

[Azimuth Industries]

"Don't partake?" Narbo swung around once inside and looked aghast at what surely would be his newest client. "Don't partake? My friend, my friend." He drew the last word out. "Keel-ee calleya ku kah."

Swirling tendrils of smoke twined around the Aqualish's figure. The arachnid's four-eyes stared at [member="Pollux"], then at his goons as they entered the establishment.

From the back room, a synthesized monotone replied in Trandoshan.

Clank. Clank.

Something large and brazen white emerged from the cigarra smog and rested forward on its knuckles. A cyclopean red photoreceptor glared at the enforcers. The two hundred and fifty kilogram Hegemonic Automaton war machine went unnaturally still.

All eyes swiveled back to Narbo. "Have you met Sim?"

The droid said something harsh in Trandoshan. It didn't seem to speak anything else. Whatever it said, Narbo seemed amused by it. He let out a low whuffle through his tusks.

"He doesn't like you."

 

[Darth Osano]

Pollux quirked his head at the droid and studied it for a moment. "Charmed." He said, eventually.

Pollux was familiar with the A2 Jungle Droid. He did not find them to be especially pragmatic. They were only really good when they were leaping through the air. Seeing as this sort of enclosed space didn't lend a lot of room for leaping through the air, Pollux was relatively unconcerned with what damage the droid could do before the Enforcer holding the shotgun, Grendel, could put a few exploding shells in its face. Pollux was no droid engineer, but he imagined the head was where Hegemonic Automaton had put the droid brain and that shooting the droid brain would kill the rest of the droid. Same with people. Mostly.
After that, the only people they'd need to worry about were Jitters the Iridonian and [member="Narbo"].

After mentally appraising the total worth of Sim, he looked back over at Narbo. "The droid isn't enough to cover your full debt. Nothing you own is." The Givin cast his glance around the den as he continued speaking. The Iridonian was the only one who seemed aware that there was any sort of tension... The rest were chasing magic dragons, so to speak. "Working for me will see it relieved faster. First, this place will need to be renovated."

That, and they would need to expand to some of the other dens. Bully their owners in a manner similar to how Pollux was bullying this one. Some of those were owned by actual, organized criminal outfits. Amateurs all, or so Pollux would believe.

 

[Azimuth Industries]

Narbo scratched at bristley hair that onlycovered the edges of an otherwise very bald head. "I-"

Own Sim? He didn't own Sim. He hadn't even mind wiped the droid after pilfering it from the Hutts. At the moment, he could think of no closer friend than Sim. He was sur he had other friends somewhere. Lots of them. Huge amounts, even. Just none who would talk to him in that funny T'doshok monotone.

The Givin's words started to sink in. "Did you say renovate?"

The skeleton wasn't gonna put him to work in a Kessel mine shaft? Or indenture him to Vagaari? Or make him fight in the pits? Or turn him into a streetwalker?

One could easily see the wheels turning inside the arachnid's head. No more nights spent wondering when the Hutt bounty hunters would catch up to him. No more days spent scraping paint off starships to sell to anyone dumb enough to fish out enough creds.

"Ho, ho!" He laughed and opened his arms wide. If he cared about the scatter guns pointing in various directions, he didn't show it.

The Iridonian perked up as the odds of a shootout dwindled.

"Iri, skelboy says we are gonna renovate, you hear?"

Narbo turned to @Pollux. "You and Narbo, we going to make big moulee-rah together. Hugely big. So, where do we start, bossman?"

 

[Darth Osano]

"I did."

Pollux did not enjoy repeating himself, but since [member="Narbo"] had finally come around and started behaving reasonably he was willing to make an exception. The fact was that there was a lot of money to be made in the Hutt Space spice trade. However, Pollux wanted nothing to do with Hutt space. His operations were confined to the Pentastar Sectors. If he wanted to rake in some income from narcotics, he would use a proxy. Spreading the Syndicate too thin, or tainting his own operations with actually illegal activity would be too much of a burden. Leaving it to Narbo after getting the Aqualish into a more favorable position would be much easier. All the reward for less of the headache.

He took a few more steps further into the den, moving past Narbo and inspecting the various rooms. There were not many. Pollux turned back around and spoke again once he was done looking around. "Show me your product. Where do you produce it?"

By and large, he already knew the answer. Details were important. All of these huffers laying about in here were going to need to be kicked out, any employees Narbo had cut loose and replaced with Helix Syndicate agents for now. It would be the best way to ensure his new Aqualish friend didn't get any funny ideas. A respectable chemical laboratory would need to be constructed. Then once things were settled here in this Shadowport, Narbo could be sent to one of the Hutt worlds to set up a proper sector-wide network.

 

[Azimuth Industries]

"Sure, sure," Narbo threw an arm around [member="Pollux"]'s shoulders. "Right this way, bossman."

He led him into the back room. Predictably, two Twi'lek women lay in a massive bed that took up most of the room. Bare bodies lithe as whiplashes wriggled beneath sheer sheets. Each girl had different colored skin, one a deep cobalt, the other ruby red.

They perked up and stretched.

"Chikas, Narbo needs the room now. Boska."

The red skinned girl yawned. The blue one glanced at the Givin. She sized him up from head to toes and gave a coy little grin and a welcoming wiggle of the fingers.

"Boska."

Clutching the sheets to their chests, they slipped off the bed and scampered past, giggling.

Narbo stepped to what looked like an empty section of the wall off to the bed's left. He pushed against it and the wall gave, swinging open. Beyond lay a small, narrow compartment. A single stool sat at a bar that ran the length of the hidden compartment. On the bar lay decanters, glass flasks, a sad little bunson burner, and other scattered implements. It looked as if Narbo had raided a chemistry class, because, well, that's exactly what he did.

"This where the magic happens. Just Narbo, no others."

On the far side of the room sat buckets of product stacked about as high as Narbo was tall. A lot of product. A lot of crappy product. But for a single man operation? Respectable, perhaps even impressive.

 

[Darth Osano]

Impressive indeed. Pollux would have killed himself out of shame for producing this amount of paint-laced cans of nonsense-drug and still not have enough money to move on to something more respectable. As respectable as could be found among do-it-yourself narcotics pushers, obviously. The Givin had to ponder where it was, exactly, that Narbo was investing all of this money if not in his business. Then he remembered the two Twi'leks bounding out of the room, nude as the day they were born, clutching sheets to their chests.

Endearing as it might have been, Pollux suspected it was not [member="Narbo"]'s personality that kept them around.

Pollux's eyes followed the red one as far as they could without him having to actually turn his head. Being a Givin was a lot like perpetually wearing sunglasses: no one could tell where he was looking most of the time. Once she was out of his peripheral vision, Pollux could once again hear what Narbo was saying. "Interesting." Pollux noted, removing a bucket from the top of the stack and examining its contents.

Pollux did not want to meet the kind of people who were so desperate for a fix they had to settle for Narbo's Quality Paint Cans. Or maybe he did. It seemed they were at least good for a few credits. Narbo really should be expanding his market to clientele with disposable income - or rather - clientele with any income at all. Probably strippers, hired guns for small-time gangs. First he had to make something that wasn't garbage, and before that he had to get equipment from someplace other than Nar Shadda Junior High.

"Throw all of this out." He said, placing the bucket back at the top. "Clean this room and make a list of the equipment you need."

 

[Azimuth Industries]

Narbo’s eyes, already quite protuberant, bulged even further from his head. Birsha never asked for Narbo’s opinion on what he needed to run a steady operation. Birsha told Narbo how, what, and where, but there were reasons for such a tight leash.

“A list? Ha!” Narbo made a sweeping, grandiose gesture that knocked over about five cans of ‘Narbo’s Special.’ “Narbo will make best list.”

If you give a drug dealer supplies, he’ll ask for a better product. If you give him a better product, he’ll ask for a better market. If you give him a better market, he will kill you, your whole family, your protocol droid, your dog, and then take all your credits.

Good thing Narbo didn’t have any of that stuff.

He got a notepad and a utensil and started to scribble things like “industrial washer,” and “4 gallons of xenoboric acid.” The Aqualish ripped the paper off the pad and handed it to [member="Pollux"]

“And you don’t have to worry about this mess,” three large digits fished inside the orange blast vest before pulling out a box of matches. He started to light one of them. “Narbo take of it real quick.”

 

[Darth Osano]

Best list indeed. Pollux scanned its contents idly while Narbo began fiddling with matches. This was all mostly foul chemicals to be mixed into an even fouler synthetic concoction that was just as likely to melt through brain cells as it was to achieve something resembling a high. This, he supposed, was what the Aqualish had been "reduced" to dealing with. Still, [member="Narbo"] had to start somewhere. That somewhere still required that this current building not be burned down, however. Pollux did somewhat disdain having to remind new hires that destroying functional properties that they already owned was never in their best interests.

"Don't burn anything down." He folded the list into a neat little square and slid it into his breast pocket. It fit perfectly. "We'll be back in three days with your supplies and to... Renovate. And discuss expansive avenues."

Pollux nodded to the Guavians, who marched out ahead of him. Before following them, Pollux had one last instruction. "See your current guests out. No visitors until we return."

And with that, the spooky skeleton turned on a spooky heel and departed, returning to the spooky shuttle from whence he spookily came.

 

[Azimuth Industries]

THREE DAYS LATER
SPICE DEN OF SOMEWHAT LESS ILL-REPUTE

"Closed? What the kark do you mean closed?"

"Mean not open and you need to Step Mo. Mahkay-cheesay." A stiff push sent the emaciated thrusterhead stumbling backward. Not wanting a fight, the addict picked himself up and hobbled away. Narbo shook a finger at his retreating back. "​To pal da banki danko."

The den itself looked somewhat more respectable, as far as spice dens went. Where previously the only sign had been the half illegible scribble of a former mechanic shop there now sat a garish, neon sign.

THE IRI​

​

No doubt creatively named after the Iridonian who ran the place. On the actual door to the establishment was a poster indicating the Iri's "grand reopening" in exactly ten minutes.

Narbo made his way back inside. He shut the door behind him and stared approvingly at his handiwork. Horrifying shades of pink covered every wall and furnishing. The divans and sofas no longer looked as if they contained every disease known to sentient life; the teller's bar looked like it wouldn't shatter if the Iridonian leaned too hard on it; and someone had fixed the coolant leak in the ceiling.

It was the small improvements that mattered, truly.

Narbo scratched at his head. "Hmm, Skelboy should be here soon, eh Iri?"

The Iridonian shrugged.

[member="Pollux"]

 

[Darth Osano]

There was one knock on the door before it opened. I twas less a request for permission and more an announcement that the individuals outside were coming in. There were just over half a dozen Guavians standing outside, Helix Syndicate Enforcers as they were now better known, and a majority of them seemed to be carrying construction equipment and supplies. One of them wore a white-and-black bull's-eye mask as opposed to the usual red. Some sort of lieutenant? Perhaps something else. Pollux had hardly explained anything about the inner-workings of the Helix Syndicate to Narbo. [member="Narbo"] did not need to be bothered with such pedantic details, not when his lovely establishment was about to be renovated for the second time.

The white helm'd enforcer stepped forward, holding a sheet of flimsiplast instead of a toolbox. His helmet thankfully concealed his mixed look of disgust and concerned at the shades of pink. Maybe that would be close enough to what Pollux wanted. They would see how it measured up once they installed the adjustable mood lights. At any rate, the lieutenant presented the flimsiplast to Narbo. "Boss says you should meet him there." There was an address printed in the Givin's meticulously monospaced, obsessively neat handwriting. Narbo would recognize it as belonging to one of his competitors.

The remaining Enforcers began to pile in, except for a pair who would keep watch outside. Already another two carrying particularly large crates were heading to the back to work their magic on Narbo's laboratory.

 

[Azimuth Industries]

He glanced at the sheet, tusks shuffling. "Hmph. Ok."

"What's going on?" Asked the Iridonian.

"Going across the street for a visit."

"You strapped?" The Iridonian asked.

Narbo looked around, stomped off to the back room, then returned brandishing an oversized pistol. He stuffed it into the front of his pants and affectionately patted the butt. "Tagwa. Am now."

"Ok." The horned near-human returned to the task of renovation.

Straightening his glaringly orange vest, Narbo grunted. "Ok."

He stepped outside and started in the direction of his competitor's business. Did not take him long to reach it. There were only so many sub-par drug dealers with actual places of business on station. Upon reaching the place, he paused for the barest fraction of a second to stare at the clean, chrome establishment. Not really his style.

Nobody stood out front, which seemed weird considering Pabitha usually had at least one lookout. Mentally shrugging, Narbo entered the place.

[member="Pollux"]

 

[Darth Osano]

The Chrome Conch, as this place happened to be called, was positively filled with people. That made it easy enough for Pollux to hang around by the front door, hands in his jacket pockets, without being noticed. The proprietor would not be showing up to work today as he had a meeting on the other side of the space station with some other petty cartel. With the door guard being preoccupied with a hooker Pollux had sent in ahead of him, there was no one around to recognize [member="Narbo"] when he came meandering in. As usual, with his bright orange jacket and Deathammer-shaped-bulge in the front of his pants, Narbo was a testament to the gracefulness and poise of the Aqualish species.

"What do you know about the owner of this place?" Pollux asked once the Aqualish was within earshot. There was a veritable rainbow of alien diversity chatting among themselves in here already, so the fact that an Aqualish and a Givin were chatting about business near the entrance would not look overly suspicious. For now.

 

[Azimuth Industries]

"Pabitha?" The Aqualish rubbed a hand over his bald scalp. Four eyes stared everywhere but at [member="Pollux"]. "She is Gamorrean. Very, uh, bountiful cheeka."

Anybody who bothered to study Aqualish body language would recognize the wistfulness in Narbo's voice. Clearly some history between the two and any betting creature would say it was on the lustful side.

"Ex-doctor, gotta long sheet. Stole meds for some bangers 'til she got caught." Narbo crossed his arms and glared in general disapproval at the congregation before him. "Rolled over on the bangers. Karkin' snitch. Hiding here until the heat dies down."

Seemed Pabitha was doing better business than he remembered.

 

[Darth Osano]

Pollux noticed the tone of Narbo's voice and, upon deciphering it, felt the unmistakable sensation of bile rising in his throat. Would he do it? Would he vomit right here in this spice den because the mental image of an Aqualish humping a Gamorrean "female" had been violently thrust into the forefront of his Givin mind? No, he wouldn't, but for a moment it had been a possibility. Pollux swallowed hard, an unnoticeable action considering the stiff exoskeleton of his neck. Eventually he looked back at [member="Narbo"], although he would never view the Aqualish in the same way again. Not that it had been in a very positive light to begin with.

"A snitch." He repeated, thinking out loud. "Not at all reliable."

He reached out and took a drink off the tray of a passing service droid, even though he didn't actually drink it.

"I think you would be better suited to running this establishment."

No, of course he did not actually think that, but a spice den under Narbo's control was a spice den under his control, which naturally lent itself to better profits and a happier, healthier Helix Syndicate.

 

[Azimuth Industries]

"Hm? Maybe, yeah... maybe."

Even if Narbo could've read Givin body language he was not paying attention. Too busy staring around at the clientele and imagining things.

Cog one clunked into cog two. Gears spun. Visibly. Four black eyes lit up with greed.

"Mm, but how? Pabitha's got security." He said in overwhelming understatement.

Narbo jerked his head toward a gigantic green behemoth standing in one corner, instantly recognizable both as a Mandallian giant and one of the galaxy's greatest bouncers on sheer looks alone. He wore nothing above the waist, exposing every single one of his eight rock hard abs. The gleamed verdant in the light. Large fangs peeked over the giant's lips, giving him a constant almost-grin. A member of a species whose name included "giant" could probably smash up the Iri all on his own.

[member="Pollux"]